


Compass Rose

by ScarlettSiren



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: ATEEZ Storyline Challenge, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Ateez Global Storyline Event, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarlettSiren/pseuds/ScarlettSiren
Summary: Something is wrong. Something is missing, and they all know it, even if they aren't sure how.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Compass Rose

**Author's Note:**

> This was my story for the Ateez Global Storyline Event! Unfortunately you'd need a South Korean VPN to access it and actually vote for it, but I'm posting it here for my readers. Here's the link to the post on Ateez's website: https://t.co/zpBEIoIl0K?amp=1

Seonghwa’s hair tickles his face as the ocean breeze rushes past him, sending a chill running down his spine. In the light of the sunset he watches as the waves lap at the shore, the metal of the jewelry sitting in his palm beginning to grow cold. The iridescent ocean shimmers before him as he stares toward horizons unknown.

He is alone.

He is alone, and yet, something lingers on the fringe of his mind, like the echoes of a memory of some long-forgotten dream. He has 

them. He was not always alone. There is something missing, like an aching hole in his chest where his heart once beat, brimming with promise.

Only that scent…the ocean waves, the breeze along the shore as it weaves through the wisps of clouds overhead. He reaches out and grasps at the shadow of a memory, but it is snatched away.

He is alone, but he is not meant to be.

***

Yunho pants heavily as he runs, weaving through pedestrians at the crosswalk trying to beat the light. They hardly pay him any mind…just a young man in a bustling city rushing on, just another inconvenience. They don’t understand. They 

understand.

He clutches his phone tightly in one hand, the screen still illuminated with the chat window long since left neglected. He doesn’t know why he feels a sudden surge of panic at the words on the screen, a well-meaning friend asking him well-meaning questions. There is nothing unusual about that.

But there 

something unusual in the way Yunho’s chest heaves with sorrow, if only because he doesn’t know 

There is someone missing. There is 

missing. And for reasons he cannot understand, he just can’t 

Memory cloys at him like a distant phantom. It slips through his grasp, but in his mind, he recalls something. Something. Someone. 

His friend. His brother. His hyung is gone.

Yunho runs, he runs toward the distant, unknowable horizon, and he knows that he must find him.

***

Yeosang sighs, kicking a small pebble underfoot. It skitters along the sidewalk before disappearing into the dirt.

It is night, and the street lights are the only thing illuminating his way. Above him, the cloudless sky glitters with a hundred million twinkling stars.

Yeosang cannot see them.

Everything seems dim since…well. Since not so long ago, he thinks…and yet, it seems so long has passed that happiness is nothing more than a distant memory, now. He has been in the darkness for so long, now that he cannot remember how it feels to bask in the light.

others tell him…but to him, the sky is nothing but a blanket of inky blackness. He is alone in the dark.

But it wasn’t always this way…was it?

Something sparks in Yeosang, a distant memory burning like forgotten embers in the pit of his stomach.

He looks up.

Above him, a single star shines brightly against the swath of black sky. Then, like a pinprick of light through dark fabric, another. And another. They draw a path forward.

Yeosang takes a step, then another. More stars appear.

Guiding him.

He does not know where they will lead, but he knows that he 

***

San stares out the window of the moving truck as it lumbers down the road, trees and benches and people passing by too quickly for him to see clearly. They pass by him like a blur…

passes by them, and that is all they will ever be to him. Nameless, faceless shades in the background of his life.

This town seems to him just like all the others. He wonders why his family feels the need to uproot themselves, packing up everything they own into tiny boxes and carting it all across the country. Every year, it’s the same. A new town. New people. New kids he will never truly call his friends. New walls he will never consider his home.

The truck stops, and San finds his gaze lingering upon a nearby storefront. A distant memory roils up from the depths of his mind and he wonders why this place seems so familiar to him. Could it be that his family is moving them back to a place they’ve been once before? Is this not a new town after all?

The feeling is warm and bright. Familiar and comforting. He wants to bask in it, wants to revel in that familiarity. The light turns green, and San makes a decision.

He unbuckles his seatbelt, he opens the door of the truck, and he 

He thinks he can hear his family calling after him, but he doesn’t care. His feet pound the pavement hard as he pushes himself as fast as his legs will carry him. He passes by the cage of a basketball court and runs his fingertips across them as he goes until the metal sings. He laughs, breathless.

He does not know where he is meant to be, where he is meant to go, but he will follow that feeling until he knows for certain.

***

Mingi grunts with effort as he lifts another heavy box into the back of a supply truck. He feels as though he’s been at this for hours; lift and place, lift and place. Rote and repetitive. Nothing ever changes.

No matter how many boxes he lifts, no matter how many boxes he places, everything stays the same. There is always one more box to take. There is always one more space to fill. Mingi slowly realizes that this is his reality, but it is also nothing more than a dream.

Mingi wakes in his room, noting the time on his clock. He’s hardly slept. He works until he is exhausted, and then he dreams of work until he must rise to do it all again. But he cannot stop, not even for a moment…he does not have the luxury.

He does not have the luxury of dreams, either. What would be the point in reveling in fantasies which will never be within his reach?

Mingi sighs as he stares out his window, up toward the starlit sky. There are clouds ebbing in strange patterns along the length of the street, snaking off into the distance toward the shoreline. At first, Mingi pays them no mind.

But soon, Mingi realizes they are not clouds at all. Boundaries of ambiguous lines dance among the stars in shades of cerulean and scarlet, and for a moment, it feels as though they are dancing for him. Calling to him.

After a moment, a shadow comes into view. There’s a young man walking through the street, following the trajectory of those very lights. He is looking up toward the sky, as if he’s entranced.

Mingi lies back on his bed with a sigh. Dancing lights and late-night adventures are a privilege he cannot afford. He has to sleep. He has to work come the morning.

But the lights do not fade, nor does Mingi…and after long, he throws on his shoes and heads out into the darkness to follow them. 

***

Wooyoung offers an uneasy smile as one of his classmates offers to have him join their study group. There’s a huge test coming up at the end of the week, so it only seems practical, but the offer seems hollow.

These are not Wooyoung’s friends.

Wooyoung remembers what friendship should feel like. He remembers playground adventures and summer getaways. He remembers reaching for treetops, he remembers skinned knees and colorful bandages and pain smoothed over with a chorus of laughter.

He remembers what it should feel like, but none of this is right.

He tells his classmate he will consider, but he won’t, really. As he heads out of the school, he speaks to no one.

He spends his afternoon mulling over this strange emptiness that suddenly crashes over him like an overwhelming wave. Everything is 

He’s chosen 

Whatever choices he’s made to make it to this point, he’s ended up on a path he no longer wishes to tread. He does not remember just what he has given up, but he aches for it all the same.

He walks endlessly, following that tug at his heart strings, in that place where warmth and kindness is meant to settle. It’s nearly dark when he begins to step onto a crosswalk when a man his age barrels past him so quickly he almost bowls Wooyoung over. He doesn’t even apologize, just keeps running, the screen of his cell phone burning brightly against his palm. 

Wooyoung doesn’t know why, but he finds himself moving in that same direction.

***

Jongho idly dribbles his basketball before allowing it to drop, bouncing halfheartedly upon the pavement before falling still against a group of others.

Jongho is strong, he is fast, he is agile and he is the best player at the park. So why does it feel so 

Because he is always alone. He glances around at the empty court. People are milling around in the park nearby, but none of them pay him any mind. Every day he comes to this place alone, he leaves alone, and nothing ever changes.

Then, he hears it. He looks up to see a man hardly older than himself running past the court. He reaches his hand out to skirt along the fencing and the metal chimes under his touch. He laughs, loud and breathless and bright, and he smiles.

Something about that smile is so achingly familiar.

It reminds him of a time when he remembered how to smile. When he had friends who could make him feel welcome, who could chase away his worries with laughter just like that. He misses it. He wants to find that again.

The stranger continues on his way, picking up his pace again and running. He seems to be heading toward the beach, but something about him tells Jongho that perhaps he has no direction at all.

Jongho stands and throws his duffel over his shoulder, heading for the gate. He follows in the direction of that stranger, that man who doesn’t feel like a stranger at all.

For once, Jongho feels like he is chasing something too fleeting for him to catch.

***

Seonghwa looks up as a shadow crosses over him. He looks up from where he is sitting, and for a moment, he is stunned. He jumps to his feet, startled.

There’s a man about his age who has nearly bumped into him, for as he walks he is not looking straight ahead, but up toward the sky. Seonghwa does not even remember the sun setting, doesn’t remember how long ago it became dark, but the street light he is beneath is the only nearby source of light.

The man blinks in confusion, appearing to come out of whatever daze he’s been in. But before he can say anything, another man comes barreling toward them, running as though his life depends upon it with a cell phone clutched tightly in his hand.

Soon enough, there’s another. Then another. All from different directions, others approach…some run, some walk, some briskly jog and make no mystery of their confusion at feeling called to this exact spot. Soon, Seonghwa is surrounded by six others. Beneath the street light, the seven of them are gathered. They know, intrinsically, that this is where they are meant to be. Familiarity tugs at their senses, and they place names to faces they should not even know. They do not remember meeting, but they know each other. They all do. They were friends, once. They still are. But something is missing.

There are eight points to a compass rose: eight directions stemming from a center point. One of them is missing. The one who brings them all together, who guides them here, who calls to them from somewhere beyond the sea.

Their true north. Their leader.

he calls, beckoning them ever onward.

This is the starting point of their long journey.


End file.
